


Once and Future

by Aziexxx



Category: Damien (TV), Merlin (TV)
Genre: Immortal Merlin, M/M, Reincarnation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-29
Updated: 2016-03-29
Packaged: 2018-05-29 23:54:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6399334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aziexxx/pseuds/Aziexxx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Merlin first saw him, he was engulfed in towering flames. Merlin might have thought there was nothing of the man he once knew left, if not for those eyes. Eyes all twisted up in blue, like crashing waves returning to the shore. Returning finally to Merlin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Once and Future

**Author's Note:**

> Hello :) 
> 
> This is just a short one-shot, borne of my desperate need for more crossovers between these fandoms. Concrit always welcome!  
> -Azie x

Merlin had done well in his isolation. He had mastered all manner of magic and wizardry, become a learned man like Gaius had always hoped. He had travelled the world, soaking up knowledge and giving it out in equal measure. He had done well. But he did not care for any of it.

He never returned to Camelot. Could not, after all of his failures. So instead, he went everywhere but, uncaring when news came of Camelot's demise.

When first ships sailed to the new world, Merlin had been living as a monk in India. He paid it no mind, having traversed those lands centuries ago, but soon the earth began to change. And so too did Merlin's many faces, now as easy to slip in and out of as breathing.

And then it happened. Like a bird come alive under his rib cage, some monstrous emotion pulling him awake one night. Merlin didn't know how or why now, but he knew this with complete certainty: The once and future king had returned.

As much as his soul pulled at Merlin to go to him, like an anchor trying to reach the sea bed, Merlin waited. Patiently and from afar, he watched. This child, whoever he may be, had darkness inside of him. It made Merlin's blood run cold, though his heart did not seem to care; come alive once more after decades of nothing but despair. 

Then this child, this King among men, grew up. And still Merlin waited, anxious but cautious to hope after so long alone. He watched as boy became man became _God_. Watched as first the people loved him and then cowered before him, absolute in his power. Watched as Art--as this _creature_ secured humanity in its grasp. The mortals around him cried and rallied and died, and still Merlin waited. 

Until one day, the King came to  _him_. 

When Merlin first saw him, he was engulfed in towering flames. Merlin might have thought there was nothing of the man he once knew left, if not for those eyes. Eyes all twisted up in blue, like crashing waves returning to the shore. Returning finally to Merlin. 

He did not smile, or beckon Merlin forward like once he would. Like the face he wore once would. He simply stood before Merlin, who was now in the guise of a sickly homeless man, and stared. Hellhounds sat patiently at his feet, growling quietly at the power they sensed within Merlin. In that moment, an age could have passed, or maybe a second - Merlin wasn't sure. He couldn't, for the first time in centuries, _think_. 

The man raised a hand, slowly, as though not to startle Merlin. It parted the blazing fire between them like a breeze through grass, quiet and sure. Merlin watched as that hand lifted closer and closer to his face, breath caught in his chest, until finally it came to rest on his cheek. 

Merlin's glamour fell away, all but melting off of his face, in an instant. His skin grew taught once more, lips filling and pink, eyes clearing up into that sun-bright blue that once sparkled with joy. The breath came loose from his chest, a gust of surprise at the action. Merlin had not done that. The man noticed, seemed to notice every little thing Merlin did, and finally _smiled_. 

It was like a hammer had whacked Merlin straight in the chest, a blow almost strong enough to topple him. A blow that set that bird flying free. 

"You've been hiding from me", he says, in a reproachful tone, this once and future nightmare. So similar and yet so foreign. That voice Merlin has only heard in his dreams, only now with a different accent. 

"I-" Merlin stumbled over a response, the feel of that too-warm hand sliding down his neck too distracting. "I was waiting. I wanted to be sure... to be sure you were-" 

Merlin's eyes slammed shut, gasping in rapid breaths, as that hand moved over his heart. Merlin's magic sang within him, seemingly stronger now than ever before. It cried out to Merlin, claiming this being before him as the other half of his soul, despite Merlin's doubts. 

"Make sure what?" The man whispered, slinking closer to Merlin, mouth coming to hover over his ear. "Make sure that I'm... _Arthur_ , was it?" 

The sound of that name, that Merlin hasn't let himself _think_ of let alone speak since that fateful day, nearly brings Merlin to tears. No one should say that name - no one _deserves_ to. And yet this man, this so called anti-Christ, does so casually. Mockingly. 

"They told me about him, you know," he continues, either unknowing or uncaring of Merlin's inner turmoil. "This Arthur of yours. Told me 'bout you, too. A sad old man, waiting eternally in the shadows. But he's never going to come back to you, don't you know that? Good ol' King Arthur's gone for good, now. Now... there's. Just. Me." 

The man springs forward with surprising dexterity, too quick for Merlin to defend himself with magic. If his magic would even allow him to hurt this man. 

He grabs Merlin, fingers bunching in the dirty rags draped over Merlin's shoulders, and pulls. One moment they're stood in a deserted alleyway, barren and burnt in the king's presence, and the next they're suddenly in a lavish bedroom. Everywhere Melin looks there is red, red painted walls, red carpet and curtains, red _bed_. 

"You can call me Damien, you know," he says, smirking, mirth dancing in his eyes in a sickeningly familiar way. Only it's _so wrong_ now, clouded in evil. Merlin doesn't know what to do. 

Damien - and of course Merlin knew his birth name, even if he might not use it - strolled over to the bed, lying back with his arms behind his head. 

"So long as you're here, you might as well get cleaned up. You reek," almost before the words even leave Damien's mouth, Merlin's clothes disappear. A tub of steaming water, metallic instead of wooden, appears in front of him. 

Damien lifts his head when Merlin doesn't immediately get in the tub, eyes raking leisurely over Merlin's body. Merlin feels himself unconsciously stand taller, eyes drawn to Damien's. Unwilling to seem the scared old man this Damien seems to think Merlin is. Their eyes stay locked, neither blinking, as Merlin slowly lowers himself into the tub. The water is truly boiling, so hot that surely a normal man would die from the heat. 

Damien is smiling again, head tilted to the side, observing Merlin as he quickly scrubs himself clean with some soap he'd conjured up. 

" _There_ you are," Damien says, voice gruff and as dark as his stare. "There's that warrior warlock my advisors warned me about. Not gonna stutter now, are ya?" 

"No, I'm not," Merlin replies, before dunking under the water to rinse his hair. When he lifts his head back out, no sign of any discomfort from the heat, Damien's smile grows wicked. 

"See, I knew you had it in you," he says, getting up and wandering over to Merlin's side. "All those years playing the victim, that's not you, is it? No, I don't think so. You know what I think? You _like_ it. Like the power and the fear it can cause, even if you can't admit it just yet. Maybe not even to yourself. But you do. I know that struggle, trying not to give in even though it's inevitable. And you like _me_. I mean, sure, you loved your old guy, for as long as you had him. I get that. But _me_? I'll last forever. And I won't ever leave you, if you'll have me. So, what do you say... Be mine?" 

By now Damien hovers directly in front of Merlin, lips brushing over lips with every other word. Merlin's mouth grows dry, eyes wide, suddenly unsure. 

... His magic has _never_ been wrong before. That much he knows. So this Damien, corrupted though he may be, is still _Arthur_. Somewhere in that blackened heart, if there's even a _chance_ that Merlin might find his King again... 

"Okay," Merlin whispered in reply, watching that beautifully blank face morph into an almost animalistic sort of triumph. 

Before Damien could open his mouth again, let more evil pour from his tongue and into his heart, Merlin struck. Lips brushed over lips, first tentatively and then altogether too hard and fast to be anything other than claiming. 

This man might think Merlin is becoming his, but in his core Merlin knows the truth: they are each other's. And if it's the last thing he does, Merlin will bring his Arthur back. 

 


End file.
